


pieces of us

by overcastskeleton



Series: the facm!verse [3]
Category: Narcos (TV)
Genre: Angst, Javi and Steve are dicks, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:20:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28675101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/overcastskeleton/pseuds/overcastskeleton
Summary: Steve and Javi find destructive ways to cope in the wake of Carrillo's return
Relationships: Javier Peña/Reader, Steve Murphy (Narcos)/You, Steve Murphy/Javier Peña/Reader
Series: the facm!verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2079051
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	pieces of us

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, let me just say that I'm really sorry.   
> Second, I'll be writing a part two!  
> Also this takes place before dinner and a show!

“Steve,” you mumble, standing in the doorway of the kitchen. 

Steve sits at the table, staring at the pale yellow paint of your walls. A stack of papers and scattered photos sit on the table in front of him, keeping his third glass of whiskey and several burned out cigarette butts company. Intel from Centra Spike, no doubt, but it doesn’t hold his interest. The gears of his mind turn on faraway things. 

You walk into the kitchen, stopping a few feet away so as not to scare him. “ _ Baby _ ,” you say a little louder. 

His eyes snap to yours, and he blinks sharply. “Sorry, honey,” he sighs, scrubbing the heels of his palms over his face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m going to bed.” You move to stand behind him and wrap your arms around his shoulders. “You should try and do the same.” 

Steve kisses the inside of your arm. “I’ll be done in a minute, promise.” 

“You said that an hour ago.” You tuck his head under your chin. “It’s late.” 

“I know. You go to bed, darling. Don’t stay up for me.” 

You’re quiet for a moment, fingers messing with the collar of his shirt. “I’m worried about you,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He tilts his head back. “You shouldn’t be, I’m fine.” 

He’s not, and he’s a shit liar. Over the past three weeks you’ve watched your husband become a husk of himself. You’ve watched the color bleed from his cheeks, watched his usually sparkling blue eyes fade to a dull grey. Even his wardrobe of reds and blues has been replaced with black and beige suits. He’s become a robot, following orders and walking through life with mechanical motions. Working himself past the point of exhaustion all day and drinking himself to sleep almost every night.

You’ve witnessed it all happening in real time, and yet he still insists that everything is fine. 

“I am,” Steve insists at your silence. He squeezes your hand. “Work’s just been--” 

“Hard lately,” you finish. 

It’s his go-to excuse. But you’ve seen him at his lowest, and he’s never looked like this. Never looked like going to work everyday was akin to staring down the barrel of a gun. Never look so beaten down and hopeless, as if just getting out of bed was a chore. 

You’re scared, and you just want him to let you in. Let you carry some of the burden he is so obviously struggling under. But Steve is stubborn, and any attempt at  _ that _ conversation is instantly shut down. 

So, you worry, but you’ve learned to worry in silence. 

Steve nods. “Yeah, just going through a rough patch. But it’s okay,  _ really _ .”

“Okay,” you say, defeated. “Goodnight.” You squeeze his shoulder. 

Steve catches your wrist gently. “ _ Hey _ ,” he whispers, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “I love you.” 

The way he says it, holding onto you like some kind of lifeline, makes your heart break all over again, and you just want to wrap your arms around him, look him in the eyes and make him talk to you. But you know that will get you nowhere but running in frustrated circles. 

You lean down and kiss his forehead. “ _ I love you _ .” 

Steve’s eyes are closed when you pull away, jaw clenched as if fighting the urge to say something else. He looks so weary, his face haggard and splotchy with dark circles hanging under his eyes. You place another kiss to the wrinkles etched between his brows and Steve exhales. 

“Don’t stay up too late.” You step back. 

His hand lingers on yours, testing the weight of your palm in his for a moment longer before he drops it reluctantly. He reaches for a cigarette and lights it with shaky hands. The small flame dances, throwing dark shadows over Steve’s ghostly face. It’s the last thing you see as you leave the room.

You’ve spent a lot of nights like this lately, staring up at the ceiling alone as you wait for Steve to come to bed. You don’t get much sleep without him, so used to his warm body wrapped around yours and his not-so-quiet snores in your ear. 

The other half of the mattress serves as a cold talisman of the way things have changed since Carrillo rolled back into Colombia like a category five hurricane. Quick and devastatingly precise in his wanton destruction. You haven’t seen Javi, for one. You don’t know if he’s avoiding your knowing gaze or if he’s too drunk and busy to come over. Either way, your knocks and phone calls go unanswered. 

Gone are the days of dinners for three, filled with laughter and teasing. Instead, a strained silence has filled you and Steve’s apartment; swirling around the small space like a thick fog, suffocating in its intensity. It clings to everything, hanging in the air like ash after a volcanic explosion, and you can’t do anything but choke on it.

Steve keeps his promise, and comes to bed sometime later. He stumbles into the dark room, knocking over the lamp on the bedside table as he trips into it while undressing. You cringe when it falls over with a dull  _ thud _ , but don’t make a sound. Steve’s quiet curses follow, soft choruses of  _ shit _ s and  _ shh _ s that tug at the corner of your lips. He crawls under the comforter a moment later, shaking the frame slightly, and wraps his body around yours. 

“‘M sorry,” he mumbles into your ear, and buries his face into your shoulder. “Sorry,” he repeats over and over again, the words slurred and muddy, like a mantra.

You rub his arm, offering the only comfort that he’ll allow as you listen to his whispered apologies. Eventually he tires himself out, and his heavy breathing fills the room. Only then do you relax, leaning back into his embrace as you give in to the lethargy that fills your bones. All is peaceful, and for a moment you can almost pretend that things are normal. 

But then come the nightmares. 

Dark, vicious little things that leave Steve shaking and disoriented as he sucks down shallow breaths. They plague him every night, swirl around his mind like storm clouds. You know they’re the reason for his sudden habit, that’s he’s drowning himself in alcohol to try and drink the shadows away. But they seem to always find him, no matter how much liquor he drinks. Tonight is no different. 

Steve’s arms shake as he holds you tighter to his chest. His labored breathing fills your ears, and his heart hammers against your back. You lay frozen against him, tears burning in the corner of your eyes. 

He won’t tell you what he dreams of. Probably thinks he’s protecting you from the demons in his head, that his dreams will scare you. Or maybe he’s worried that you’ll start to see him as less than. 

“ _ Steve _ ,” you whisper, swallowing the lump that rises in your throat at the way he jumps when you speak.

“It’s nothing.” He shakes his head. “I’m sorry I woke you up. Go back to bed.” 

_ Deny, deny, deny _ , that’s his method of choice. Keep pretending everything’s okay and maybe one day it will be. 

You reach over and click on the lamp. “It’s not  _ nothing _ ,” you insist, your voice cracking. “Why won’t you talk to me? I just want to help.” 

Steve pulls away from you and rolls onto his back. “You can’t.” 

“Let me try.” You sit up and face him.

He scoffs and rubs a hand over his face. “What are you gonna do? Kiss it all better?” 

You take a deep breath, his words only highlight the inadequacy you feel already. “That’s not fair.”

“I already told you,  _ I’m fine _ .” 

“You’re scaring me.” 

“You’re overreacting.” Steve rolls his eyes.

“Am I?” You chuckle. “You sit at the table and stare at the wall for hours while you drink yourself into a stupor, but you’re fine? I hold you through nightmare after nightmare every single night, but you’re fine? You don’t eat, you come home late, and you barely even talk to me. I’m not a fucking idiot, Steve, I know something is wrong. I wish you would stop lying to me and let me help you.” 

“What are you gonna do? Try and fuck this all away like with Javi?” Steve snaps, and his expression falls, instantly regretting his words when he sees your face. He reaches out to you. “Honey, I’m sorry—”

You flinch away from him as if struck. “ _ Don’t _ .” Hot tears blur your vision, and you rub them away with the back of your hand before they can fall. “Don’t touch me.” 

“ _ Fuck _ . Baby, I didn’t mean that. That was a shitty thing to say. Things have just been rough at work, and I’m exhausted and--” 

“I don’t care. You don’t get to take this out on me.” You get out of bed. “You can yell at all those other government assholes, but not at me. I have done nothing but be patient and supportive the past year while you pushed yourself to the brink over and over again.” This time you can’t stop the tears that roll down your cheeks. “And I am not gonna sit here and watch you kill yourself, and if that makes me the bad guy, then  _ okay _ . But you don’t get to be so cruel. Not to me.” 

Steve follows you, or at least he tries to. He’s still intoxicated, and his legs tangle in the blankets, making him trip. “Shit. Honey, wait.” 

You look down at him as he kicks at them futilely. “You’re drunk, and I know you wouldn’t say something like that if you were sober,” you say quietly, wrapping your arms around yourself. “I still don’t want to be around you right now, and I think that’s more than fair.”

“Where are you gonna go?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll go fuck Javi.” The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them.

You want to feel some small victory at the way Steve grimaces and his eyes fall to the carpeted floor, but the only thing that comes is the ache in your chest at your cruel words. Playing dirty like that doesn’t make you any better, it just makes your stomach flip guiltily. 

You’re both at a standstill, waiting for the other to make the first move. You know that if he were to call you back you’d stay without hesitation, you almost want him to, but he doesn’t. His eyes stay trained on the blanket in front of him, shoulders tense and teeth clamped together. 

You nod, tongue swiping out to wet your bottom lip and pull your sneakers on. You move slowly, taking your time as you tie the laces and pull on an old sweatshirt, silently begging Steve to say anything. But he doesn’t speak again until you’re halfway out the bedroom door. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I fucking said that. I didn’t mean it, and you didn’t deserve that.” 

“I know.” 

“I love you.” 

“ _ I know _ .” 

You take a deep breath and leave your apartment, gently closing the door behind you, but you swear the quiet click of the latch is deafening. It’s late, and the building is eerily quiet, save for the buzzing of the dim lights that guide your way. You go down the stairs, your footsteps echoing lightly, and stop in front of Javi’s door. 

The sliver of yellow light coming from underneath the door tells you Javi’s home. That or he leaves his lights on all the time; you honestly can’t be sure since he hasn’t answered the door the other times you’ve stopped by. You decide to chance it, knocking on the wood twice. Nothing but silence greets you, and you shift your weight from foot to foot anxiously. 

_ It was stupid to come here _ , you think, and are about to turn on your heel and go back when you hear the lock slide. 

Javi opens the door only slightly and peeks around it, eyebrows furrowed and jaw set at the late-night intrusion. His features smooth out from one of annoyance to confusion as he takes in your appearance. His eyes slide over your rumpled pajamas to your tear-stained face. “ _ Nena _ ?” He opens the door a little wider. 

“Hey, stranger.” You smile, your heart flitting in your chest at the sight of him. You’ve missed him so much. “Been a while.” 

“Yeah. Sorry I’ve just been...busy with work,” he says, tapping a finger against the door. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” He sounds distracted, in a hurry. 

“Steve and I had a fight,” you mutter, twirling your wedding ring around your finger. “I don’t really want to be around him right now. Can I sleep here?” 

“Shit.” Javi rests his forehead against the doorjamb. He sucks his teeth and glances behind him. Um…” 

“Is it a bad time?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“ _ No _ . Well, yes.” He moves out into the hallway and shuts the door behind him. “Look I’m sorry, I really am. But I’m kind of in the middle of something.” 

It’s your turn to look him up and down. He’s half-dressed, his jeans hanging low around his hips and unbuttoned. His hair’s a mess, sticking to his forehead and curling lightly with sweat. There’s a bruise on his collarbone that looks suspiciously like a hickey. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out the nature of his business. 

“ _ Oh _ .” You step back, biting your bottom lip as realization dawns. “I’m sorry.” You ball your fingers, digging your nails into your palm as you blink at him dumbly. 

“Wait.” Javi holds his hands out to you. “I can ask her to leave.” 

You shake your head, something hot and sharp cracking in your chest. “I don’t want to interrupt.”

There’s heartbreak and then there’s whatever the fuck you’re feeling right now. Your whole body aches with the force of it, your heartbeat pounds in your ear so loudly that it’s making you nauseous. Worst of all is the biting thought that you have no right to feel this way at all, because Javi doesn’t belong to you, not exclusively. But, you had hoped at least that whatever you two had was special enough to hold his attention longer. 

You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out, so you shut it again. 

“You’re not interrupting,  _ querida _ . Okay? Give me a couple minutes and she’ll be gone.” The way he says it, as if having another woman over is just nothing, sets you off. 

“Why her?” You blurt out. “Why not me?” 

_ Why go to some random stranger? _

Javi sighs. “We don’t have to do this right now.” 

“Then when? The next time you feel like actually picking up the phone again?” You cross your arms over your chest. “Because I have been calling and calling and you never answer. I guess I know why you’ve been so busy.” 

“This was the first time--”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” 

He hangs his head. “I guess not.”

“ _ Why _ ? Why didn’t you just come talk to me?” 

Javi bites the inside of his cheek. “I don’t know.” 

“Bullshit.” 

“ _ I don’t _ . I’m not good at this whole thing. I guess this was just...easier.” 

You’re breath hitches in your throat at his honesty. “Easier,” you repeat. 

Javi nods, eyes scanning your face cautiously. He looks so guilty, like a kid caught with his hand in a cookie jar. “I’m sorry,” he says and it’s so sincere that it brings another fresh wave of heartache. 

You turn away from him, sniffling under your breath. Suddenly your apartment seems too far away. “Goodnight, Javi.” You run up the stairs before he has a chance to respond, leaving him to stare after you, mouth agape. 

You don’t even make it back before ugly sobs work their way up and out of your chest. You choke them down, pressing a fist into your mouth. Every breath you take hurts, as if pieces of your heart have splintered and shed like sheets of ice off an iceberg. It takes all you’ve got to hold yourself together until you make it home. 

Steve’s strewn out on the couch when you walk through the front door. The TV is on, a late news cast twining with his deep snores. You don’t even spare him a second glance, heading straight to the bedroom and slamming the door a little too loud.  _ Good _ , you hope it wakes him up.

Your shoes are kicked off haphazardly, sweatshirt thrown somewhere in the dark expanse of the room. The dam breaks the moment your body hits the mattress, and you succumb to the current of emotions, letting them tug at you. Everything smells like Steve, and that only makes the waterworks come harder. You cry until your cheeks turn hot and your head hurts, and then you cry some more. Let the pain and fear bleed out of you in torrents. 

You’ve never felt so much hurt in your life. 

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my tumblr for more: bobaandthefetts


End file.
